Last Days

‘I’m leaving tomorrow,

but I’ve got time today.’

-

Before the sun sets again,

you’ll be a thousand miles away,

stolen from me

by the metallic hands of

a great mechanical monster.

-

For now, the sun has barely risen,

and is spilling through the gaps between the blinds

illuminating your figure and

enlarging my dark shadow.

I sit in a dreadful silence,

trying to control my breathing.

-

Once you’re awake, I try to savour each moment

desperate to bury my awareness that this is our last day

for God knows how long.

-

By the time the final hour approaches,

dragging its knuckles, grunting,

there’s an internal agony bleeding into my actions,

my jittery limbs, my wide eyes, my nervous heart. We

-

walk over to the station, past a thousand

faces we’ll never really know

and wouldn’t recognise again

even if they spoke words to us.

-

The hands approach.

I turn for just a second, trying to find peace,

to tolerate this waiting,

-

and you’re gone.

-

I don’t know how long for,

but even by tonight,

your absence will overwhelm

my weary mind,

my shadow on the wall nervous,

pointing out my failings.